Untitled
by MirrorFade
Summary: Marcus reflects on the foggy night long ago his childhood hero reveiled a secret that changed everything.


**Untitled**

The fire danced and crackled, hungrily devouring the wood in the pit. Marcus sat on a log and stared at it, lost in thought.

Victor and Amelia had not yet returned from a night of bloody mayhem, better known as "pest extermination". Marcus sneered. Oh, they were so righteous in their quest to rid the world of lycans. Those they did not kill would be taken as slaves, to serve their betters, as Victor put it. Amelia rarely commented, so taken by bloodlust was she.

_I am to blame for this, I turned them, _Marcus thought bleakly. He had never meant for the war to happen, all he had wanted was his little brother back. No war, no feuds, no bloody politics.

Instead he had two bloodthirsty predators out there killing lycans with their legions of immortal soldiers, and the knowledge his brother was out there, somewhere, imprisoned alone in the dark keep of some old dungeon.

The wind whistled through the forest, ruffling his cloak. But Marcus did not feel the chill of midwinter's gale. He watched the fire, watched it dance. William had loved fire, loved watching it's dance, the warmth it gave. As had Kinadara.

Marcus thought back to his childhood, before the war, before Victor, before he became a vampire.

_The wind was quite tonight, though it was but a cleaver deception, tricking foolish travelers into thinking the mountains would be safe. The coming storm would devour any foolish enough to brave the treacherous mountain trails this murky midwinter night._

_Marcus shivered, but not from cold, though there was an eerie chill penetrating Castle Corvinus this night. He pushed the old patchwork blanket off and stepped softly out of his bed, so as to not to wake his twin. _

_William was sleeping facing the east window, curly red hair framing his head on the stiff cotton pillow. _

_Marcus crept to the north-facing window, peeled back the tapestry covering it and peeked out of the tower, into the inky blackness of the midwinter's night. Tendrils of fog twisted around the castle and grounds, clinging to the trees and walls like a lover. Snow covered the land, and frost kissed the keep walls, giving the land a surreal look. _

_He looked to the sky, felt the flurries raining down, warning of the coming blizzard. The full moon held his attention, enchanting him with its silvery glow. _So beautiful,_ he thought. _

"_Marcus." William's soft voice pulled him from his revere. Marcus turned his head to look at his twin, who was looking out his window, small frame tense. _

"_What is it?" Marcus asked, wondering what his brother was up to._

_William turned, a rare smile on his face, blue eyes twinkling. "Lady Kinadara is back! I see Storm," he said happily, naming the lady's bay stallion. _

_Marcus jumped onto his brother's bed and peeked out the window. As William had said, Storm was being led into the stable, and the snow had not yet managed to cover up the boot prints leading to one of the many side entrances to the castle. _

_Marcus smiled and leaped from his brother's bed, and moved over to his, getting down on the cold flagstone to search for his warm deerskin boots. He found them under his bed, nestled next to a sizable clan of dust bunnies. _

"_What are you doing?" William had hopped down and was standing above him brother, a puzzled look on his face. _

_Marcus jerked on one boot, fumbling with the stiff lacing. "I am going to greet her, before she disappears into the night again. We don't know how long she will stay."_

_William nodded, and walked to the battered wooded chest that had once been blue at the end of his bed. He paused to run his small hand over the small wolves running and leaping across the box. A gift from Kinadara. _

_He fumbled with the frozen and rusted latch, opened the chest and pulled out two molten green cloaks, each lined with the pelt of a gray wolf. William donned the smaller one and tossed the other to his brother. "The chill is harsh tonight, Marcus. And the storm is swift in coming."_

_He caught the cloak his brother tossed him one-handed, nodding in agreement. He stopped lacing his second boot to don the cloak, smiling as he felt the soft pelt embrace him. Lady Kinadara was kind indeed. _

_William materialized beside him, cloak and boots firmly laced, hand extended to pull his brother up._

_Marcus grasped his brother's offered hand, then both of the teenagers tiptoed down the stone steps of the spiraling tower. _

_They reached the bottom of the spiraling tower quickly, pausing at the carved oak door. Working together, the brothers pulled the heavy door open, the greased hinges voicing not a whisper of complaint. _

_Torchlight flickered in the stone hall of the keep, casting dark shadows over the many weapons and armor displayed upon the gray walls. Thought the light was weak in the wake of midnight, the sheen of steel and silver adorning the numerous weapons hanging on the wall of the keep could not be denied. Castle Corvinus was ever prepared for war. _

_Low voices floated to them, coming from the small door near the stable. William pointed ahead, sapphire eyes questioning. Marcus nodded, and tiptoed ahead. They got within five feet of the door, and hid behind a suit of gray plate armor. _

_Snow from outside was sprinkled on the flagstone, swiftly turning from white crystals into clear droplets. _

_It was brighter here, two cast-iron bowls balanced upon steel tripods held logs dosed with oil smelling of sage. The firelight brought into sharp detail the two figures standing opposite each other. Lord Corvinus, and lady Kinadara._

_Marcus flinched and pulled deeper into the shadows instinctively, knowing William was doing the same. Their father did not care for them._

_Lord Corvinus stood proudly, dressed in a russet robe adorned with gold. Unlike all the other souls who dwelled within the cold walls of the castle, he carried no weapons, openly or concealed. _

_The fire snapped in the bowls, the flames dancing higher, casting a gray sheen over the lord's short snow-white hair. His cold brown eyes were inflexible, though not narrowed. _

_Kinadara was almost his exact opposite. Tall and possessed of a muscular build, she stood proudly with a gray cloak lined with the pelt of a snow cat draped haphazardly over her broad shoulders. She wore a thin gray undershirt and over that a shirt of fine chain mail. Over the mail she wore a studded leather tunic with two thin straps running from one shoulder down to her stomach at an angle, then wrapped around her waist as a belt. The tip of her longbow peeked out from the collar of her gray cloak, and her twin scimitars hooked simply to her belt. Slender stilettos were hooked to the strips of leather tied around her thighs, the hilts gleaming dismally in the firelight. _

_Though her could see only half of the lady's face, Marcus could see Kinadara was angry. Her narrowed eyes flashed, shifting from russet to deep jade, then back again. The bone beads with inlayed moonstones braided into her long ink-colored hair quivered silently. _

_It was lady Kinadara who spoke first. "Who has been training my militia?"_

_Lord Corvinus cocked his head, and responded, voice cool, "What business is it of yours? The fog would place claim to them before you could."_

_The lady laughed cruelly, reminding Marcus how deadly lady Kinadara truly was. Raised and trained by the clan soldiers, she was one to be reckoned with. The blades strapped to her thighs and hooked to her belt were not for show, and all held a cruel edge._

"_True, who would wish to claim them? Nevertheless, it is business of mine how the soldiers of my clan will react to battle." Her eyes narrowed and shifted to ink-black. "I will not have my brothers trained in the art of warfare by men who cannot guard against a lone horseman."_

_Marcus turned his head to William. His brother's face showed bewilderment that Marcus knew was mirrored upon his own. Kinadara had kin here, brothers?_

"_Your brothers are none of your concern, Kinadara." His father's face bore no emotion, as if a painted had used his brush to wipe it all away. "They will be trained, of that I assure you."_

_The lady scoffed at that, kicking at the flagstone with a worn black boot. "Forgive my doubts, but I fear you displayed little interest in the progression of my training, save for when I was skilled enough to wield you army against your enemies. You cared not if I fell in battle, why should it give you pause when you hear word your sons have fallen, for their weak combat training was not enough?" _

_Marcus didn't understand what the lady was speaking of. Nor did William, if the look on his face was any judge._

"_You are unwelcome in my presence." Lord Corvinus spat, sounding disgusted while still managing to keep his face barren of emotion._

_Kinadara snorted, ebony eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Always you spit those words at me, father. And here I say to you, you are unwelcome in mine."_

_Marcus and William stared at each other. What? The lady Kinadara, their hero, their friend, was their…sister? _

_Their father's next words confirmed what they suspected. "Sired you I may have, but you are no daughter of mine! You are Kinadara, nothing but the daughter of a street whore."_

_William gasped softly. Marcus slapped a prudent hand over his brother's mouth. Though it was not soon enough, as Kinadara's, their sister's, eye swerved and fixed on the suit of armor they were cowering behind. But the great warrior said nothing to hint she had heard them, though her right eye remained fixed upon them as she spoke, voice as smooth as the black water of the river flowing from the mountain. "Wrong, lord Corvinus. I am Kinadara, warrior and leader of armies. I am Shadow, immortal and undefeated. Ware your words, father mine, for I command the armies of clan Corvinus, not you, never you."_

_Lord Corvinus and lady Kinadara stared at each other for three ten-counts, neither blinking, neither backing down. It was the dark-haired warrior who broke the silence, speaking softly as she removed two small parcels wraped in thin leather from her belt pouch. "As I never was born of you, I never came to the keep this night. These," she extended her hand and the parcels to Lord Corvinus, "Came by carrier bird. You will give them to Marcus and William." Her eyes narrowed and shifted to pale, pale gray. Dirty snow, Marcus thought._

_His father nodded, his face blank, always blank, as he took the offered parcels. "Be gone, daughter. Be gone into the fog form which you came from."_

_Kinadara sneered, baring slightly pointed teeth. "I was never here."_

_And with that said, she pivoted on her heel and walked away, out the door, out of the warmth, into the fog of midnight. The flames contained in the iron bowls screamed, shooting into the air, sparks dancing were their had been shadows. _

_Never again did the warrior known as Shadow return to castle Corvinus, though Marcus and William spent many hours watching for their mysterious sister from the keep walls, watching and waiting for the silent hoof beats of her war stallion that never came. _

_Kinadara Corvinus was dead to them, the only remnants of her life the stories the clan warriors told of her, and the two gifts she left for her brothers that shadowy midwinter night. _

Marcus stared at the fire as flurries of snow danced on the air, never once balking at the blaze, willingly flying into its deadly embrace.

When they had grown into men, he and William had rode into the mountains, searching for their warrior sister. They found her, and her army.

His sister had greeted them kindly, concealing nothing from her young kin. And so they had learned the truth.

Kinadara was an immortal, and a shape shifter, not dissimilar from William. But unlike her youngest brother, Kinadara could shift into any shape she so wished. As could her army.

Marcus smiled darkly as he remembered the warriors his daring sister had trained and turned. Undefeated she had been, Shadow she had become, and undefeated she had died, murdered from a knife taken in her back. Marcus suspected his father, though there was little he could do, save bury his beloved sister and morn her memory.

Marcus lifted his head to the stars, revealing in the wind and night. His gaze was drawn to the tattoo on his right wrist. A sneering bat, a relief of the one adorning his dagger. Kinadara's last gift to her brothers had been two daggers. One with a bat for Marcus, one with a singing wolf for William. A note written on parchment held a simple avowal, _In time, all will be apparent. _Marcus smiled at the memory. _Indeed, sister mine, all has become apparent. _

**_ AN- Well, did you like it? Please review!  
_**


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